


i move mountains

by your typical rockstar (tamquamm)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Reaction, tell me (and kyle) why babcock hates william
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquamm/pseuds/your%20typical%20rockstar
Summary: “I’m going to kill him.” Kyle is fuming.Which, is kind of starting to piss William off, considering he’s the one who should be the most upset here.





	i move mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Mike Babcock is incapable of recognizing William Nylander without prompting, and even then cannot do so without throwing in a backhanded jab,,, wondERFUL
>
>> William Nylander scored & tied for team lead with four shots  
  
Babcock: "That was his best, by far. He had the puck, he got the puck, he got it back, he made things happen. It was his most competitive game this year. It'd be one we'd like to see, obviously, on a regular basis ..."
>> 
>> — Mark Masters (@markhmasters) [October 8, 2019](https://twitter.com/markhmasters/status/1181403807072292864?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> -  
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“I’m going to kill him.” Kyle is fuming.

Which, is kind of starting to piss William off, considering he’s the one who should be the most upset here. 

“Would you relax?” William says, maybe a little meanly. He crosses his arms, kicks his feet against the cabinets under his perch on the kitchen counter. His mug of tea is carefully set next to him, cooling, still too hot for him to drink. He wishes he could chug it right now, though. He could use all the help settling down, after all of that. This. Both. Whatever. 

Kyle continues to pace across the kitchen, angrily scrolling through his phone. “I’m telling Brendan I want him fired,” he says, in lieu of William’s request. 

William makes a face. “Fucking relax.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kyle barks at him, but if his face is any tell at all, he regrets it as soon as he says it. 

Still, William doesn’t let it go. “How dare you take this out on  _ me, _ huh?” He tries to go for his tea but it’s still too hot, the ceramic burning his hand. He swears, a sharp hiss, and Kyle nearly fusses but William stops him with a glare. “After the night I’ve had…” he mumbles to himself, trailing off. 

“I’m sorry,” Kyle says in a sigh. He stops pacing completely and turns to face him instead. “I’m just really upset, I’m never this out of control. I don't know what to do with myself.”

William takes Kyle’s phone from his hands and sets it next to his mug. He parts his knees and lets Kyle slot between them, encourages him to wrap his hands around his waist. Kyle looks up at him, opens his mouth to speak. But Willy shushes him, holds Kyle’s face, his palms cupping his cheeks. He leans down then, kisses him, firm and sure but paced, steady. Slow, even. 

It’s a minute before they pull apart, but when they do, William makes sure to study his face. “Relax. Please,” he says, less forceful now, and only  _ just _ a hint breathy. 

Kyle looks at him, somber. Inhales audibly. William fidgets; smoothes Kyle’s hair back, straightens out his glasses.

“It’s frustrating,” Kyle finally says. It’s much less heated than before. Just kind of… sad, really.

“It is,” William agrees, amicable. “Trust me, it is for me, too.”

“Especially for you,” Kyle murmurs, leaning into William’s chest. His hold around him tightens. William lets him, welcomes him. Sighs into Kyle’s hair.

“I don’t think I can do this for four more seasons,” Kyle says, muffled. “Not after everything I’ve done to put together this roster.”

“I know,” William says, because that’s what Kyle needs right now. And Kyle needs it more than he does. William’s used to it. Bummed, sure, but mostly unphased. Just another day, just the usual.

“I’ve teed this up  _ perfectly _ for him.  _ This _ is the roster. This is the one!”

William’s already moved to massage at Kyle’s shoulders, but he squeezes then, maybe a reminder, maybe just to ground him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kyle says, then, everything he’s gotten worked up draining right back out of him.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” William tells him, simple. Patient.

“I hate that I’ve done everything I could and I can’t control anything else,” Kyle admits all at once.

William wraps his legs around him then, crosses his ankles, just so he can pull Kyle in closer with the leverage. He kisses him again, more purposefully this time. He feels Kyle physically relax under him, under his lips, his hands. Only then does he pull away again. This time he uses the minute of Kyle’s silence to grab his mug. He pushes it into Kyle’s hands instead, urges him to drink it.

Kyle gives him a look, but William stares right back until he dutifully sips at it. William watches his adam’s apple as he swallows. 

“You’re going to drink that, we’re going to go to bed, and you won’t even think about hockey or business. Let alone make any decisions. Not like this. It’s too fresh and raw and...” William pauses, tries to find a better word, but fails, settling for the original, “ _ personal. _ ”

“But--” Kyle starts.

“Nope,” William cuts him off. He pushes Kyle away gently, just enough for him to wiggle down from off the countertop and onto the floor. He navigates around Kyle, grabs a glass and fills it with water. He takes his time drinking it down before setting the glass in the sink.

“If you make any decisions you’re doing it with your GM glasses on, not your ‘I-love-William’ glasses. You’re leaving those at home, do you understand me?”

“You’re still my player, Will--”

“And you’ll make decisions with that mindset.  _ Objective _ decisions. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can do that,” Kyle snaps, but not as mean as before. He catches himself again, groans and clutches the mug tighter. “I didn’t make it this far being an idiot.”

“Well you’re kind of being an idiot right now,” William points out. And the thing is, he’s not entirely wrong. Kyle knows he’s thinking emotionally, knows he could be irrational like this. In the moment. He might not be, but that’s not a guarantee. He inhales and exhales, a cycle, deep and a little shaky.

“Come on,” William grabs Kyle’s hands, starts to pull him out of the kitchen.

“Okay,” Kyle follows without much of a fight. All the way to the bedroom, all the way to bed. 

They slip under the comforter, William tucking his feet under Kyle to keep his feet warm. Kyle readjusts so he’s still comfortable but still has weight on them. Readjusts until he can still sit up enough to drink the tea but still have an arm wrapped protectively around William. 

“You know,” Kyle says after some silence, just as William is starting to snuggle in closer to him. “You had an incredible game. You're on fire. I’m really proud of you.”

William hums, sleepy, but Kyle can still feel him smile where his face is pressed against his chest. 

“I know you are,” William murmurs, eyes still closed. Kyle sets the now-empty mug on the nightstand and slips further under the covers. Right until he can slot against William properly, comforted in the way they fit together perfect and familiar. 

“I never want you to forget that I’m proud of you. Not for a second," Kyle whispers, fiercer. 

“I won’t,” William says, even sleepier, but Kyle could swear he sounds just an air of amused. That's the William he knows. He pets William’s hair back, tucks a stand of hair behind his ear. Kisses his forehead.

“Good.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (me, projecting: willy just wants someone to be proud of him!!! :(  
me, still projecting: kyle knows and kyle is proud ok!!!!)


End file.
